History Repeats Itself
by Starry-eyed dreamer86
Summary: "If History Repeats itself, and the unexpected always happens, then how incapable must man be of learning from experience." George Bernard. Generations have passed, and the story of Harry Potter and Voldemort is now only a boring history lesson. But the thing about history is; it has a habit of repeating itself.
1. Lost

**Hello reader.**

**So, I've had this idea forever, and it's not a complete puzzle yet, but I've got a plot and a couple of characters that I think will be fun to work with so I thought why not scratch the itch. So, this is an SYOC, and I will give you all the information you will need for that aspect at the end. **

**For now, enjoy the chapter. It's just a little something to introduce a couple of the characters you'll be seeing in the story.**

~Lost~

Anabelle was striding ahead, pushing effortlessly through the crowd of robed men and women, who didn't even bother to look at her as she passed. Arabella scrambled to catch up, but she wasn't used to the crowd and people kept bumping into her and nearly knocking her over. "Ana!" she cried when she couldn't see her long, auburn braid anymore. "Anabelle!"

Panic began to set in, and she began to cry, which only made her feel worse. Her first time amongst actual witches and wizards, other than her sister of course, and she looked like a baby.

Someone touched her arm, and she jumped, and stumbled into a wall. "Hey, it's okay."

She turned to see the person speaking to her, and found herself face-to-face with a boy. "You look lost," he explained when she only stared at him, arms tucked around herself protectively. "I lost my parents too, so I thought we could look together."

Her mouth opened slightly, but she couldn't bring herself to speak. He held out a hand and smiled. "I don't bite, I promise." Something about his smile was relaxing, and besides, what else could she do? So she reached out and took his hand. "I'm Connor by the way," he told her. "I'm here to get supplies for school. Hogwarts."

"Yeah, me too," she replied quietly, then, realizing she hadn't introduced herself, she added sheepishly. "I'm Arabella."

"It's nice to meet you Arabella." They walked a short way in silence, Conner weaving around people and through small opening with so much ease Arabella thought could only be natural talent. "Do you know where your parents were planning on going? Mine said they were going to Gringotts," he was saying as they came out into a more open space, and he gestured to the huge white marble structure across the way, "but when I got there I couldn't find them. I tried asking a goblin if they'd seen them," at this he chuckled to himself, "definitely won't be trying that again. Horrible little creatures, goblins. Have you ever met one." Arabella shook her head. "Me neither. Well, not before today anyway. I guess you could have guessed that though, huh?" She didn't answer.

They veered to the side of the stone path, and Conner stepped up onto the sidewalk, tilting his head at her. The extra inch or so that it gave in put them at eye level, and she thought that he looked rather like a bird when he did that with his head. Then again, he probably looked like a bird no matter how he stood with his thin frame, and narrow features, and thin white hair that looked like soft down feathers. "You don't talk much do you?" he asked, and she couldn't help a smile, which caused a sparkle in his big, round blue eyes.

"No, I don't."

"Well you should," he told her, taking her wrist and pulling her along behind him. He led her into a store that smelled of dust, and was filled with stacks upon stacks of books. "If you don't talk, how are people gonna know how smart you are?"

"How do you know I'm smart?" She wondered, but she wasn't looking at him any more, she was taking in all of the titles around her. How she would have liked to take a seat and just stay there all day, with no crowds or noise or goblins. Just reading.

"You just look smart." Conner had his hands behind his back, and was meandering through the paths between piles, glancing at titles. "And you lit up when you realized where we were, which means you must like books right?"

Arabella crept forward, and stuck her head around a pile, watching him pause, and run a hand along a spine. "My sister says you shouldn't make assumptions about a person. They're usually more than you think."

Conner turned his head, flashing his teeth in a grin. "It wasn't an assumption," he retorted, "it was an observation. And anyways, I asked you about it to make sure I was right, so it's okay." He pulled down the book and flipped it open, and Arabella saw dust catch the light.

"I do like reading," she admitted, coming into the aisle, and leaning over to see the words.

"Then you've come to the right place." She jumped, but Conner, only turned his head. A man stood at the end of their aisle, his skin pulled taught over his bones, and what little hair he had standing at odd angles from his head, fragil and grey as him. "If pleasure reading is what you're here for."

Arabella shrunk behind Conner as the man began hobbling towards them. Conner, turned to face him, holding up the book. "Could you tell me about this one? Why is the writing so funny."

The man tilted his head up, and examined the cover, then smiled. "The writing's not funny, boy. It's poetry, that's how you write poetry."

"What's poetry?"

"You don't know what poetry is?" Arabella asked quietly.

"Not many magic folk do," the old man told her. "Wizards don't see a point to it anymore."

"It sort of looks like a song to me," Conner told her, turning to smile, and she offered a half-smile in return.

"It is like a song, except there isn't any music to it," the man told them. "And it can be very beautiful when it's done right, and also very dangerous."

"Why's that?"

"It can't be explained. You just have to find out for yourself." He handed the book back to him. "Would you like it?"

He shook his head. "Thanks, but I don't have any money on me right now."

The old man nodded. "How about you," he peered around Conner at Arabella. "Would you like it?"

She shook her head. "My sister wouldn't approve if I was getting things besides what I need from school."

They heard the door open, and a familiar voice filled the musty air. "Hello? Arabella."

"That's my sister," she said, backing away. "It was nice meeting you both." Then she disappeared around the stack of books.

When they heard the door shut again, Conner turned back to the old man. "Actually, I think I'll take the book, but could I come back at the end of the day when I've gotten all of my supplies? You know, just in case I don't have enough money."

"You're going to give it to your friend?" the old man asked. Conner smiled.

"You know, you shouldn't make assumptions about people. They're often more than you think."

The old man laughed. "I heard that girl say that very thing to you not five minutes ago, boy."

"Conner," he corrected. "My name is Conner. What's yours?"

"Hugo," the old man replied. "Hugo Weasly. Now come on, humor an old man. Are you giving her the book?"

"Yes. She sounded like she like she really liked poetry when she asked about me knowing what it was."

"You're a young man, you shouldn't be so concerned with girls yet," Hugo told him.

Conner smiled. "She was interesting to talk to, once I got her talking. I just want to be friends."

"Um hm." Hugo eyed him suspiciously a moment, but then handed him the book. "You can have it. A gift from an old man who wants to spread what his mother loved."

Conner smiled at him. "Thank you, sir."

"You had better be a good 'friend' to that girl."

Conner laughed a little, then turned and left, with the book of strange words tucked under his arm.

_~Lost~_

"You're lucky you're so predictable," Anabelle scolded as she marched her sister down the street. "Otherwise I may never have been able to find you, and then what? I would have had to tell Mom that I lost you, and on the first trip she let me take to Diagon Alley alone. Honestly, what possessed you to run off like that?"

"I didn't run off," Arabella objected, allowing herself to be ushered into a store who's windows displayed long robes that spun and modeled themselves. "I couldn't keep up with you, and you wouldn't listen to me and slow down."

"You need to learn stop being so timid and just push through everyone. You'll never get to class at Hogwarts if you can't even make it through the hallways."

"I'm sorry."

Anabelle only shook her head, and wondered into the back of the shop as a plump woman bustled in, and set Arabella up on a pedestal.

"So, your mother let you and your sister come alone this time?" The woman asked as she slipped a robe over Arabella's thin frame."

"Yes ma'am. My sister is fifteen now, and mom figures if she's old enough to take care of herself."

"That's a big responsibility for someone so young, especially when added to being responsible for a sister." The woman paused in her work, and looked up at her. "I apologize dear, I didn't mean to be nosy. You're grandmother was a friend of mine, and I knew your mother as a child. When she and your sister first came, well I can't tell you how happy I was that there was magic in the family again. Usually once there is a squab, the line dies out."

"That's what everyone keeps telling me. Anabelle thinks it's a big honor."

"What do you think?" The woman asked through the pins she had begun sticking into her mouth.

Arabella thought a moment. "I think it makes my mom sad. Her parents had magic, so she was an outcast to them, but maybe she always thought it would be better when she had children, and she could raise them as muggles. No magic. Just like her. Somewhere to really fit in, you know?"

"But she didn't get that."

"Yeah, that's why it makes her sad."

"I see. You're very perceptive for such a young age," the woman told her. "It will help you a lot a school, you'll learn quickly."

"Thank you." But she knew the woman's words couldn't hold through. Her sister was top of her class, and popular, and not to mention a prefect now. How could she ever compete with that?

**Okay, that it, now let's talk rules and stuff. **

**I won't accept submissions through review unless you don't have an account. If that's the case, send it in a review, I'll save it to my computer, but I won't let it actually show in the reviews. Okay? Okay. I'm going to put the form and all other rules on my profile, so check it out there.**

**I will leave this open until June 15, and if I don't have a suitable cast then I'll decide whether or not to extend that, but I'll start writing chapters at that point with what I have. I won't update until I have closed the SYOC though, and I won't keep it open for more than a month, so the next update could be anywhere from June 15 to July 1. **

**Thanks for reading, and I look forward to seeing what I get to work with. **


	2. Ready For This

**Hello again.**

**So I got a pretty great cast of characters, so I'm going to go ahead and call this closed for now. A few things I'd like to address:**

**First of all, I'm sorry about how long this took, and that it so short. Normally, for such a long period of time, I put out much better chapters, but I was having a little trouble with this one. **

**Second, I tried to get into contact with everyone who submitted, and I think I did, but if you didn't get a message it's not because I didn't feel the need to talk to you, I probably just didn't realize I hadn't responded yet. It would be the first time I've done that. Anyways, so if you submitted and didn't get a response, just send me a message and let me know. **

**Okay, last thing. I will not be introducing every character at the beginning of the story. Seriously, nobody's got time for that. I will introduce the characters when I feel like it's a good place for them to be introduced. Not because I don't like your character, or your characters just going to be thrown to the side, just because their time has come yet. Okay? It's a more realistic feeling story if the introductions are more spread out. So I'm sorry in advance if it takes some time to get around to your character, but if I told you I would use them then I will. Promise.:)**

**Okay, I'm done talking. Here we go.**

**I own only what my own mind creates. Credit for Aries, Dawn, and Courtney go to Shiranai Atsune. Credit for Harry Potter goes to J.K Rowling. **

_~Ready For This~_

King's Cross was crowded, as it always was, and it took what Arabella thought could only have been hours to find a parking spot. Her mother, a frail woman with grey hair, helped them load their belongings into a trolley, and as soon as they had finished, Anabelle began to stroll away, but Arabella was pulled back by her mother.

"Promise me you'll write," she said, big eyes searching her daughter desperately. She was trembling. "Your sister, well, she always says she'll write, but she never does."

Arabella smiled at her, and traced an x over her heart. "I'll write. Promise."

Her mother wrapped her bony arms around her in an awkward hug. Well, it was only awkward because Arabella was hopeless with things that required contact. She patted her mother's back uncertainly, feeling hot tears soaking her shoulder. "Promise me," her mother cried, "That you won't let those people convince you that I am any less of a person because I wasn't blessed with the same gifts as the rest of you."

At this, Arabella heart sank. This irrational fear was all Anabelle's fault. Anabelle, who had spent one year amongst other magical folk and turned her back on her mother. Anabelle, who had allowed the wizarding world to convince her that their mother was less, because of her status as a squib.

Anabelle, who was as fickle as a breeze's blow, and she was nothing like Anabelle.

"I won't," she promised, pulling away, and squeezing her mother's shoulder. They were almost at eye-level because her mother was so short. "I'll write to you as soon as I can and tell you what house I'm in."

Her mother's mouth twitched up into a smile. "You'll be in Hufflepuff," she decided, pushing a piece of dirt-colored hair behind Arabella's ear, "Where they are just and loyal. Just like your great-grandmother. She never changed her opinion of me either."

Arabella smiled, but didn't get to say anything in return, because at that moment, Anabelle reappeared beside her. "What _are_ you doing?" she demanded. "You're going to make us late, and I have _responsibilities _now!" she grabbed Arabella's arm, and began dragging her away, and leaving the younger girl to attempt to wave goodbye to her mother and pull her trolley with her only free hand. She thought she must have looked awfully silly.

"Honestly," Anabelle was saying as they entered the station. "You would think someone was dying the way you two were carrying on. You'll see her again when we come home for summer." She stopped a few feet from the barrier between platforms nine and ten, and said, "You go first."

Arabella glanced around, then looked back at Anabelle uncertainly. "Go where?"

Anabelle made an exasperated noise. "Through the barrier!" she hissed, "Don't you pay attention when I talk?"

But Arabella didn't hear the second part, because at that moment she had gasped and repeated, "_Through _it!"

Anabelle clapped a hand over her mouth, shushing her harshly. "What is wrong with you? Are you _trying _to give us away?" She took a deep breath, and watched Arabella carefully, as though she were a bomb that might explode, removing her hand slowly. "Through it," she confirmed. "You had better do it at a run."

Arabella turned her head to the wall, with her mouth hanging open slightly. It looked very solid to her. "You go first so I can see," she told her sister, swallowing hard.

"Why, so I can come back through and collect you when you wimp out? No way, I'm staying here until you have gone through," then, as an afterthought, she added, "Or I have to push you through it."

"You planning on going, or are you just gonna stand there all day?"

Arabella jumped, and Anabelle's head snapped up to focus on the person behind her, frowning. "Who are you?" But Arabella knew the answer before he gave it. There was no mistaking that smooth, playful voice. It was Conner.

That, however, was not how he introduced himself. "Just a lowly first year preparing for his first journey from platform nine-and-three-quarters." When Arabella turned to look, she saw that he had swept into a low bow, and in a hand that he was flourishing by his ear, was waving his ticket for the Hogwarts Express. She had the strong urge to laugh, but shoved it away because Anabelle was already in a bad temper.

Sure enough, the older girls ears went pink, and she snapped, "Watch what you say around all of these muggles!"

Conner caught Arabella's eye, tucking the ticket back into his pocket, and his blue ones were sparkling. He knew as well as she did that the new color of her sister's ears was not due to his mention of the abnormal platform. "Sorry," he apologized, no trace of regret in his voice, and then he held out a hand. "I'm Conner. Your sister," the note of question was clear in his voice, and he looked to Arabella for confirmation, which she offered in form of a nod, "and I met in Diagon Alley, and I couldn't resist coming over to say hello."

Anabelle crossed her arms, unimpressed, and asked, "Where are your parents?"

"Could ask you the same question," Conner told her, stuffing his hands inside the pockets of his jeans, "but I won't. My parents had to get back to work, so they just dropped me off. We said our goodbyes at home."

"Did they even tell you how to get onto the platform?"

"'Course they did," and for the first time, Arabella saw irritation flash in the boy's eyes. "What? Do you think I came from a family of idiots?"

"No, but I do think you have rather irresponsible parents."

"Says the girls who's here alone as well," Conner countered, and didn't wait for a response from Anabelle. Instead, he turned to Arabella, and asked, "Why don't we go through the barrier together?"

She smiled, relief washing over her, and said, "Okay."

So Conner led her away from her sister, and they lined themselves up with the barrier that didn't seem so solid with Conner standing beside her, strong and confident. "On three," he told her, then preceded to count. "One." She braced herself, ready to run without thought into the bricks. "Two." If her sister and Conner both thought it was safe then it had to be. "Three!" She was running, the barrier growing closer and closer.

She closed her eyes as the front of her trolley reached the brick, and kept running. When she opened them again, she was looking at a crowd of robed witches and wizards, bustling about with animal cages, and school robes, and odd magical items she couldn't place, and behind all of them was a scarlet engine billowing smoke.

"Wow," she murmured.

"This beats Diagon Alley by a long shot," Conner commented, grinning as he watched a paper bird flutter past him. "Someone's going to teach me how to do that!"

"It's a basic charm." Anabelle had followed them through the barrier, and was giving Conner her most superior glare. "It's in the _Standard book of Spells _if you bother to read." Then she disappeared into the crowd.

"You know, for all of her talk about irresponsibility she isn't exactly all that responsible herself," Conner whispered darkly to Arabella, beginning to make his way through the crowd. "I mean, this is twice now that she has gone off and left you in a big crowd of people."

"Well, at least this time she left me _with _someone," Arabella pointed out with a small shrug.

"With the boy she just criticized for being here with no parents?" Conner turned towards her, raising one eyebrow as he stepped up onto a ledge to see over the heads of the crowd.

"Okay," Arabella admitted, "So that's not the best defense in the world."

"It's not a defense at all. There." He pointed over the crowd towards the back of the train. "It looks like there are a few empty compartments that way." So he hopped down, and cleared a path for them through the crowd with a lot of "Excuse me."s and "Sorry"s.

He had been right. They found an empty compartment at the back of the train with ease, and after a long argument, Conner managed to convince a sullen-looking boy who must have been in his sixth or seventh year, to help load his and Arabella's things onto the train.

By the time they finally slid the compartment door shut and sat down, the conductor was warning everyone to get loaded up. The train would be leaving in less than a minute.

"So, no pets?" Conner asked as he unlocked the cage of a small tabby kitten, who meowed loudly and scrabbled up onto his shoulder. As it settled down importantly, the train began to pull out of the station, students leaning out of windows to wave goodbye to the people still on the platform.

"Um, no," she replied, watching the crowd vanish behind a corner, and feeling nerves begin to kick in. "My family can't really, well, afford them."

"That's too bad," Conner told her mildly, scratching the cat behind the ear. "My family owns a farm back in America, so I grew up with all sorts of pets, but when we moved to London for my parents work I only got to bring a couple of the dogs and Oliver here."

"You're from America?" Arabella asked, interested.

Conner nodded, smiling a little. "Couldn't tell by my accent?"

She smiled a little. "I noticed it, but I couldn't tell where it was from."

Conner tilted his head forwards slightly, raising his hands. "Well," he said, "Now you know."

She sat on the edge of her seat, and looked at him curiously. "What's it like? Over there, I mean."

Conner considered the question a moment, then cracked a grin. "Everyone's fat and senseless." Then as though on an afterthought, he added, "And we love to vote, even if we have no idea what we're voting for."

Arabella laughed a little. "I'm sure there are some good things about it, too."

"Well, our quidditch team is undefeated three years running," Conner replied with a grin, blue eyes sparkling. Arabella grinned back, and opened her mouth to say something, but before she could, the door to their compartment slid open, and a blond head poked in.

"Excuse me," the girl said pleasantly, stepping into the compartment as though she owned it. Arabella looked at her hands, half-annoyed by the disturbance, and half-wishing she could be that confident. "Sorry to bother, but everywhere else is either full, or occupied by ink blots that think they need an entire compartment to themselves."

"Ink blots?" She could help herself.

The blond girl smiled a little, and the way she held herself, all the way down to the slight backwards tilt of her head, so she was looking down her nose; reminded Arabella of her sister. "People who think they're more important than they are. Just like a blot of ink that takes up space on parchment."

Arabella's mouth twitched into a smile. It was clever. "Anyways, we were wondering if you would mind us staying here," a new voice put in, and another girl came into the compartment, this one slightly taller, and already wearing her black Hogwarts robes. Her raven hair fell into neat curls down to her shoulders, and her dark brown eyes glinted with an intelligent light. _Ravenclaw for sure, _Arabella thought, then realized what she was doing and pinched the skin on her wrist hard. She had been trying to break herself of profiling people for nearly a year.

"It won't bother me," Conner said with a shrug, then looked to Arabella. "What about you, Red?"

Arabella opened her mouth, said nothing, then closed it feeling ridiculous. After repeating this show twice, she just turned towards the window, and gestured to the spot next to her, hoping that would convey her approval.

Apparently it did, because one of the girls took a seat beside her. She saw a flash of blond beside Conner and figured the dark-haired girl must be seated next to her.

"My name is Aries, by the way," the blond girl said. "And that's Dawn. We're both first years."

"Have the two of you been friends long?" Conner asked in his friendly tone, a smile on his face.

"We're not friends," the girl beside her, Dawn, corrected. "We're acquaintances. We met outside in the corridor." She turned to look at Arabella, who looked away quickly. "What about you two? Did you just meet?"

"Actually we met in Diagon Alley," Conner replied. "A few weeks ago."

"Well that gives you a one-up on us, huh?" Aries joked, smiling. Then she said, "I like your cat. He's really cute." reaching out to scratch it behind the ears. Oliver purred.

"Thanks."

"You haven't introduced yourselves," Dawn observed, wrestling a copy of _the Standard Book of Spells _from the bag sitting on the seat beside her.

"Right," Conner removed Oliver from his shoulder, and allowed Aries to transfer him to her lap. "My name's Conner, and she's Arabella."

"Arabella's a pretty name," Aries commented, pulling back when Oliver tried to lick her nose.

"Thank you." Then, not wanting to sound rude, she added, "I like yours, too."

Aries laughed a little. "That's a lie, but I appreciate the effort."

Arabella chewed on her lip, but before she could think of a response, the door to the compartment slid open again, and another girl stuck her head into the compartment, this one older. The resemblances between this girl and Dawn slid together in Arabella's mind like puzzle pieces. They had the same nose that slanted up slightly, and the same soft curve to their brow line, and the same pale lips and fair skin.

"There you are," she said, finding Dawn.

"Here I am," was Dawn's bored reply.

The girl slid the door open wide, and stepped into the compartment. "Just making sure you got settled in." Everything about her was unkempt, from her pixie-cut hair, to her ill-fitting, black robes- one shoulder of which was marked with a patch of scarlet and gold, featuring a lion reared back on its hind legs, roaring. The same patch was on Anabelle's school robes. "I'll be at the front of the train if you need me. Hadley's got a Steak'60."

Conner sat straight up, eyes bright. "A Streak'60! Those are worth a fortune."

"I know!" the girl said excitedly, then froze as her eyes wandered from Conner to the girl sitting next to him placing the kitten gently back onto his shoulder. "You," she said, taking in the pale skin, and neatly kept clothing and long platinum blond hair held back my a green hair pin with her initials carved with silver sparkles, catching the the light. "'AM'? That stands for Aries Malfoy, doesn't it?"

"It does," Aries replied mildly, turning back to face her and folding her hands in her lap. "And you might be?"

The older girl pulled herself up to her full height, swelling like a bullfrog. "You have no right to speak to me, you filthy, dark-magic-loving-"

"Courtney," Dawn warned.

"Don't give me that!" Courtney snapped, rounding on her. "What do you think you're doing? Associating with someone like that?"

"Her last name being Malfoy doesn't make her like the one from the stories. That was something like five generations ago," Dawn responded mildly.

"Four, actually," Aries corrected. "My family's not perfect, but neither is yours depending on who's doing the talking."

Courtney looked as though she were going to explode. "What does that mean?"

"It's time for you to leave," Dawn decided, standing and shoving her sister from the compartment. Courtney attempted to say that she couldn't do that, but before she could, Dawn shut the door definitively in her face. She then turned Aries. "I'm sorry about my sister. Her mind is rather narrow."

"It's all right," Aries assured. "I've grown up with encounters like that. When your family name is among the most hated in the wizarding world you get used to the negative attention."

"Well, it's wrong." Dawn slumped back into he seat. "You haven't committed any crimes against wizard kind. Some relatives did it before you were born and are dead now, so you shouldn't have to pay the price."

"What did you mean?" Aries, who had her mouth open to reply to Dawn's comment, paused and turned her eyes instead to Arabella. She looked down sheepishly and babbled, "Before-when you said, 'but neither is yours depending on who's talking'? What did you mean?"

"Blood traitors," Aries replied simply.

"Blood traitors?" Arabella and Conner repeated together, sharing an uncertain glance.

"Blood traitors," Dawn confirmed. "Witches and wizards who didn't support making the wizarding world for pure bloods only during the Dark Days."

"The Dark Days?" Conner interrupted.

"When Lord Voldemort was in power." Areis looked at them curiously. "Are the two of you from muggle families or something?"

"Conner's from America," Arabella explained quickly. "They're ambassadors from the ministry of magic."

"Really?" Dawn asked, sitting up straighter. "You're from America?"

So Conner answered endless questions about his old home, and all talk of blood traitors, or the Dark Days, or Arabella's own family was forgotten.

The sky was turning an inky black, and Conner was in the middle of sharing the history of the most renowned American magical school, Delwhick School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, when the door to their compartment slid open again. This time it was Anabelle who stood in the doorway, the prefect badge shining as bright as ever underneath the Gryffindor patch.

"The conductor says we'll be arriving soon," she said, giving Arabella's muggle cloths a distasteful look. "You should change into your school robes. Don't know why you haven't done it already. I mean honestly, you would think by eleven..." her voice trailed off as she slammed the door, and made her way back down the corridor.

"My sister," Arabella explained sheepishly as the other three looked at her curiously.

Dawn giggled, and managed, "Crazy older sisters. Must be the new trend." The rest of the compartment fell into laughter along with her.

Arabella had just pulled on her robes when the train began to slow. She slipped into the corridor to join Conner, Aries, and Dawn. Conner turned to her, smiled, and said in a low voice. "You ready for this?"

She shook her head quickly, hissing, "No!"

He laughed. "Neither am I."

She gave him a grateful smile.


	3. The Hat's Warning

**Sorry this took so long, but here it is, chapter three yay!**

**Also, I would like to note that there is a reason I write fiction and not poetry, so try not to hat too much on the awful attempt at the hat's song:/**

**Hope you enjoy, and I only own what my own mind creates.**

_~The Hat's Warning~_

The air on he platform smelled like trees and train, an unusual combination that made Arabella's nose twitch. Conner, however inhaled deeply, and sighed. "Smells like home," he said dreamily. "Well, minus the lingering smell of smoke."

Arabella giggled.

"Someone's calling for us."

Indeed they were. It was a tall, dark-haired girl with a golden patch that Arabella could make out in the half-light above a shining badge that looked larger and more important than Anabelle's prefect badge. They pushed their way through the crowd of older students-who grumbled every time they were bumped- and to the front of the first years gathering around.

"Is that everyone?" the girl asked, craning to look for stragglers. "All of the first years?" There was a low murmuring and everyone looked around at the other first years, but no one spoke up to account for someone missing, so the girl said, "Okay, good. I am the Head Girl, and he's Head boy," she gestured to her companion, a boy wearing a Ravenclaw patch. "We are here to prepare you for the next part of your journey."

"You mean you'll be taking us up to the school?" asked a gangly boy with a mop of thick, light brown hair.

The Head Boy winced and glanced at his companion who gestured for him to answer. "Well...no."

"No?"

"It is Hogwarts tradition for the groundskeeper to escort the first years to the school."

"Okay, so why aren't we talking to a groundskeeper?" demanded a raven-haired girl with her arms crossed.

"We're here to take you to where you will meet the groundskeeper," the girl explained. She exchanged a glance with her companion, then added, "and also to prepare you for what you will meet when you get there."

"You see," the Head Boy started before the first years could begin asking questions. "Wick is, well- he's Wick. He means well, but he comes off a little."

"Odd," the Head Girl finished.

"Odd?" Arabella repeated under her breath, glancing sideways at Conner. Several others were doing the same, and the night air became charged with uncertain whispering.

"Just listen to us and you should be fine," the Head Girl told them. "First of all, don't be offended by his expression, it's just the way he always looks."

"And don't try to have a conversation with him," the Head Boy added. "Not many can do that in the first place, much less of bunch of first y-ow!" The Head Girl had kicked him.

"Also, don't be offended if he calls you some sort of animal. He just does that."

"Basically, behave, shut up, and try not to be easily offended."

"Yes," the Head Girl agreed, sending her partner a slightly irritated glare. "Especially the behave part. Just because he doesn't look like he understands doesn't mean he doesn't. If I find out you offended him, I'll go straight to your head of house and see about punishment."

The Head boy chortled. "She's not bluffing. And if she doesn't find the head of house's punishment satisfying, then she'll go to the Headmaster himself."

A lot of disgruntled voices filled the air with a low buzz, but when she snapped, "Am I understood?" they all turned to one unified:

"Yes."

"Good, then follow me," and with a sweep of her black cloak, she lead them down a dark, gravelly path. Conner walked on the edge of it, and held his hand out into the pitch blackness.

"Trees," he told her in a quiet voice, pulling his hand out and showing the thick green leaf he had pulled away.

"Anabelle's told me the school's surrounded by a forest," Arabella replied taking the leaf from him and holding it close to her face so she could see in the faint torchlight coming from the Head Boy and Girl. It wasn't like any leaf she had ever found in a muggle park. It was perfectly round, and color splayed out from its center. Not the yellow, red, or orange of autumn, however, but what she was sure was blue.

"It's called the forbidden forest," Aries told them in a hiss, "because it's supposed to be filled with all sorts of dangerous creatures. Like werewolves and giant spiders!"

Dawn poked Arabella hard in the side and whispered, "You might want to ditch that before we get to the school. It might come off the wrong way."

"Why?" Arabella asked, still examining the leaf carefully, fascinated.

"Well, that's _Caeruleus Mors Mortum. _When ground and mixed correctly, it can be used to create a potion of death," she replied matter-of-factly.

Arabella dropped the leaf, and scrubbed her hands on her robes. Aries giggled. Their group came to a halt as their path opened up onto a long expanse of black that reflected the tall towers and turrets of the vast castle that poked into the starry night sky.

"Wick," the Head Girl called to a man moving around a fleet of boats at the edge of the lake. "The first years."

Wick was a tall, lean man with black hair that hung in tangled knots over his face and the upturned collar of his long coat, which was so stained and caked with mud that it was difficult to tell what it's original color had been.

He pushed the hair away from his face, revealing in the torchlight grey eyes that didn't quite focus on her as he said, "Thank you, Wolf Pup." in a faint voice.

Someone in the crowd whispered in a low voice, "Wow, she wasn't kidding about the animal name thing." Then, a thud and the same voice: "Ouch!" Someone must have kicked them.

The Head girl handed Wick her torch, and disappeared back up the path with the Head Boy.

They were silent as the odd man instructed them into the boats. No one was very eager to get too close to him, so he got a boat to himself, while some of the first years piled into others four and five at a time.

The ride across the lake was silent. They couldn't even appreciate the beauty of the castle because everyone was eyeing Wick, hoping he wasn't watching them.

_~The Hat's Warning~_

There was a woman waiting for them in front of the large, oak doors that would take them into the castle. Everyone's discomfort about Wick had shrunk and been replaced by the wonder they should have been feeling all along the closer they got to the structure.

"Thank you, Wick," she said with a nod. The man returned a brief nod, and strode away form them, mumbling incoherently. There was a cough that sounded suspiciously like, "Nut!"

The woman cleared her throat. Arabella thought briefly that if her mother had gone to school at Hogwarts, she might have gone with this woman. The next thought was that she was rather pretty for a teacher, with features that swooped cleanly into each other, and fiery red hair that fell in very neatly kept ringlets over her shoulders. Her intelligent brown eyes swept the crowd, and settled on a girl in the middle of it, who was sniggering. "Allow me to be incontrovertibly clear," she said, her voice sounding as though her were stretched to the point of breaking.

She took slow steps forward, and as she did, the first years parted so that she could get to her target. Once she was standing over the girl who's strawberry blond hair fell in a braid all the way down her back, she said, "Wick is a member of the staff, and thus, deserves the same respect you would offer any of us. And should you land in my house, I will be sure it is given to him. Am I clear?"

The girl's jaw was clenched, and she held the woman's gaze (quite a feat in Arabella's opinion) for a few long seconds. Then, she replied shortly, "Incontrovertibly."

The woman's eyes narrowed. "I will be watching you," she warned, then turned and began to walk back to the front, saying, "I am Professor Weasly, Head of Ravenclaw, which is one of Hogwarts' four houses. Shortly you will join the students in the Great Hall to be sorted into one of these houses. The Sorting Ceremony is very important because while you are at Hogwarts, your house will be something like your family. You will sleep in your house dormitories, spend free time in your house common room, have classes with those in your house, and so on. Your triumphs will earn you and your house points, but those same points can be taken in the light of any...missteps." Her eyes lingered on the girl she had called out. "Follow me please."

She lead them through the oak doors, and across a huge, high-ceiling-ed Entrance Hall. There was another pair of oak doors through which the chatter of voices could be heard. Professor Weasly lead them through a side door, and into a small chamber that barely offered elbow room once they had all packed in.

"One moment, please," then the professor disappeared through another door, and left them alone.

As soon as the door closed behind her, the girl from before began to laugh derisively. "Is she serious?" She raised her hands, and in a rather accurate impression of Professor Weasly's voice, said, "'I'll be watching you'? She's a joke, and that groundskeeper's a loon. I don't know what they're doing leaving a bunch of kids alone with him. No telling what could happen."

"They didn't want to hurt his feelings," another girl cut in, saying exactly what Arabella had been thinking. The speaker stepped forward so that she could be seen, and then right up in the other girl's face. Well, she might have been in her face, if she wasn't so much shorter than the red-haired girl. "He does have feelings you know? Even if he doesn't express them the same as you."

The first girl bent so they were on eye level, and said in a voice that was a bit too loud. "He's off his rocker! He belongs in St. Mungo's, not here around students!"

The boy beside her, who shared her strawberry-blond hair and grey eyes and oval shaped face, grabbed her by the arm and said, "Come on, Riles. The professor will be back any second, and if she catches you talking about him like that-"

"Talking about who like what?" They all jumped, and turned to see that Professor Weasly had returned, standing in the doorway, and searching their faces with piercing brown eyes.

Nobody said anything.

"Fine," Professor Weasly said at last. "Follow me, then."

And they did, into the Great Hall, where they followed her between tables filled with students in black robes and pointed hats, who all fell silent, and watched them closely. Arabella stared at the ceiling in awe. Past the thousands of candles hanging in midair and lighting the hall, she could see the starry night sky. She thought perhaps she wasn't looking at a ceiling at all, but just out into the open air.

"It's bewitched to reflect the sky," Dawn told her quietly looking up at it as well.

"It's amazing," she breathed.

They came to a stop, right in front of the table raised above the rest and lined with older witches and wizards. The staff table, Arabella presumed. At its center was a man with white hair that stuck out from his hat at odd angles. He looked to be the eldest on the staff, with laugh lines around his mouth and eyes. To hear it from Anabelle, the Head Master, Professor Oaklin Totiller, was the best thing to happen to the school since Albus Dumbledore himself.

Of course, Anabelle hadn't exaclty known any other Head Masters so how was she to know if there had been a better one?

The man smiled a little, and she realized she'd been staring at him. Blushing furiously, she looked down, and saw that Professor Weasly had sat a short, four-legged stool before them, and on it, a dirty heap of frayed and patched fabric that she took a moment to recognize as a hat.

Fifty different scenerios shot through her head at once, and she was so focused on sorting through them, that she almost missed the large rip at the bottom of the hat opening wide.

Almost.

_A story I have to tell you,_

_I suggest you all take note_

_For in my words I promise_

_A warning lies in wait,_

_Many years before you time,_

_Many years before you time,_

_A boy passed through this school,_

_He studied just like all of you,_

_A fantastic student he was,_

_Received__ rewards and good scores,_

_But in his blood was taint,_

_He bore a hideous hate,_

_And with every year that passed,_

_He delved deeper into his curse,_

_and studied that darkest of magic,_

_Years went by,_

_His hunger grew, _

_His knowledge reached its peak,_

_He split his soul into seven pieces,_

_A diary, a diadem, a locket,_

_A cup, a ring, a snake,_

_And the seventh,_

_without his knowledge,_

_was the boy bring his death,_

_You've lestened well,_

_you've heard, beware_

_For it's happening again,_

_You all must stand together now, _

_loyal, wise, ambitious, brave,_

_For if you don't I fear the worst,_

_We'll crumble from the inside out,_

_When history repeats itself._

There was a moment when the entire hall was silent. Then, the headmaster clapped his hands together once. Professor Weasly joined him uncertainly, and soon, the hall was filled with disjointed claps that swelled into finally enthusiastic applause. Conner leaned over, and whispered, "Should we really be clapping? I was thinking something more along the lines of, 'Yes, Mr. Hat'." Arabella giggled.

When the applause died away, Professor Weasly unfurled a long scroll and announced, "When I call you name, you will step forward, and try on the hat." She cleared her throat, then, "Adkinson, Arabella."

Arabella felt sick. Why was her name first? There couldn't have been an Adams, or an Abrams? She swallowed hard, and took a step forward, shaking. She could hear murmuring behind her, and turned to see it was coming from the sea of scarlette and gold and black. She spotted her sister among them, sitting tall as she could. Anabelle flashed her an encouraging smile.

She turned back towards the front, taking a deep breath. The thought came to her from nowhere; she had read once that sharks had to swim continuously, or they would sink. So that's what she had to do. She just had to keep swimming before she sank. She was a shark.

It helped, the thought that, so long as she didn't pause between putting one foot in front of the other, she wouldn't sink. She made it to the stool, picked up the hat, and placed it on her head.

It slipped down over her eyes and ears, sending her world into darkness, and muffled sound. A voice came to life in her head. The hat!

"Yes, a good one to start with," it said silkily. "Lots of ambition, a good sense of loyalty, but I see knowledge most. Yes..." then, she heard the hat call out to the rest of a hall, in a voice that didn't sound near as smooth as it had in her head, "Ravenclaw!"

When she removed the hat, the first thing she saw was her sister, and Anabelle's eyes were full of betrayal. Arabella felt very childishly as though she had to shout to Anabelle that it wasn't her fault. The hat had chosen, not her.

She placed the hat back on the stool, and retreated into the crowd of students in blue rimmed robes, who had been shouting themselves hoarse since the hat had announced her new house. The dark-haired boy from before, wearing his Head Boy badge, scooted over and so she took a seat beside him. Professor Weasly raised a hand, and her table quieted. "Broche, Leah."

She emerged from the back of the first years, with long black hair that fell down her hat barely touched her head and shouted, "Gryffindor!"

The table on Ravenclaws' left came to life as Leah removed the hat and joined the Gryffindors with a wide smile, accepting claps on the back, and laughing as a boy who looked like her brother ruffled her hair. Anabelle leaned over the table and shook the newcomers hand.

"Burchette, Jessica." Also joined the Gryffindors, then, "Cobble Charlie." took a seat beside her as a new Ravenclaw, followed by, "Cuttle, Erin."

As, "Ethan, Maxwell." was sorted into Gryffindor, Erin said quietly, "Quite clever isn't it? Do you think they'll teach us how to bewitch inanimate objects like that?"

Charlie shrugged and Arabella, not wanting to say anything foolish, pretended she hadn't heard her, and watched the hat put, "Franz, Logan." in Slytherin. The table behind her roared and welcomed their first new member. "Grenzwald, Sienna." a small, sinister looking girl with short, black hair and red-rimmed, blue eyes, joined him shortly after.

"Harding, Summer." Left the room quiet for a few moments more than most, but finally the hat shouted, "Ravenclaw!" and they were joined by yet another member.

"Hurse, Adam." Gave Hufflepuff their first new student, and then, "Kramer, Calder." stepped forward and Arabella recognized him instantly as the boy who had tried to play mediator between his sister and the tiny girl in the side chamber. There was a long pause for him, but the hat deemed him a Gryffindor, as well as his sister, "Kramer, Ryselina." who sat next to him with a smug smile.

"Johnson, Ben." was another Ravenclaw, "Kinge, Cameron." was a Hufflepuff, then another Ravenclaw, "Kringer, Jason." "Larnie, Thomas." was a Slytherin. The list went on. "Lesh...Looper...Lurell." then, another person she recognized. "Malfoy, Aries."

Aries swept forward, placed the hat importantly on her head, and was put in Slytherin without missing a beat. Arabella's heart sank slightly. She'd been hoping to have at least one person she was familiar with in her own house. And besides, she'd rather liked Aries.

Two more names, "McDaniel..." (Hufflepuff) and "Middler..." (Another Ravenclaw), then: "Monroe, Conner."

There wasn't even time for her to hope he was in her house. He raced forward, shoved the hat onto his head, it immediately cried, "Gryffindor."

And just like that, the boy form Diagon Alley and King's Cross was welcomed to a different table, with his back to her. She looked away bitterly as her sister shook his hand, and she could have sworn she had sent smug grin her way.

Two more Hufflepuffs followed, then a new Slytherin and Ravenclaw, and then, "Orlans, Sabrina." The tiny girl that had challenged Ryselina in the side chamber, was placed in Hufflepuff as well.

"Slytherin...Slytherin...Ravenclaw...Hufflepuff...Slytherin...Hufflepuff...Slythein...Ravenclaw."

"Tate, Calista." A girl with raven hair that fell in a sheet over her shoulders and across her shoulder blades, was sorted into Gryffindor. Then, three more Slytherins, another Gryffindor, and two more Ravenclaws later it was, "Wood, Dawn"'s turn.

The hat took it's time with the dark-haired girl, and Arabella crossed her fingers under the table, biting her lip. Finally, the hat announced, "Ravenclaw!"

"We got the most!" The Head Boy told them jovially as he shook hands with Dawn. "No one can catch up now!" Arabella thought it rather silly to care if you get the most new students or not. It sounded like it would mean more work to her.

"York, Raphael." was the last to be sorted, and was welcomed to Hufflefuff with open arms and lots of cheering.

When the room had settled down, the Head Master stood, and spread his arms wide. His voice filled the room, but somehow didn't seem loud. "It is tradition," he told them with a smile, "and has been since the reign of the great Headmaster Albus Dumbledor, for my welcoming speech to take place after you have all been fed. So, my only words for now are, 'Let the feast begin!'."

Arabella gasped as the large platters filled to the point of spilling over with everything she could imagine and more. Too much, she knew, for them to eat, but delicious enough for them to certainly try. She began filling her plate.

"How do they do all of this?" Dawn wondered aloud, filling her own plate.

"House elves," the Head boy replied, "you know, that have been set free and need work elsewhere."

"What's a house elf?" Arabella asked automatically.

"Magical creatures that are bound to serve one family their entire existence,.

Unless they're set free, of course. Only the really old wizarding families have them anymore. At least, not elves that are bound to them."

"What's the difference between a bound house elf and a normal one?" asked Ben Johnson, picking away at the skin of a baked chicken.

"A bound house elf _is _a normal one," someone scoffed a few seats down.

"He's right," the Head Boy agreed, "At the beginning of history, house elves were all bound to a wizarding family, but along the way that changed. Now, we have freed house elves; house elves that can leave whenever they see fit, can be paid, can use their magic whenever they like; and bound house elves; elves that can only do what their masters say, go where they say, and work for nothing."

"So they're slaves?" Ben asked, looking horrified. Arabella smiled at litte as the boy pushed his glasses up his nose and continued angrily, "How is it even still legal to enslave living creatures?"

"It's tradition," the Head Boy answered mildly, "and besides, most house elves prefer the work without pay. Most of the time hired house elves just work for food and shelter. Money is sort of like a slap to the face."

"Why?" Ben demanded. "Because they're brainwashed into believing they're below the common courtesy granted to every other creature?"

"Brainwashed is a word," he replied, voice still level.

"But you don't think it's accurate?" Dawn joined the conversation, her voice filled with curiosity.

The Head Boy shrugged his shoulders. "I think it's an opinion, and really, the whole subject is readable only in the language of opinion. Maybe they have been brainwashed, or maybe they're like that because it's the natural order of things."

Arabella nodded, staring at him intently. "So you're saying the whole thing is purely philosophical."

The Head Boy beamed at her. "Precisely. You're very smart, you know that?"

Arabella blushed at the compliment, and a fourth boy scoffed. "Of course she's smart, Lyle. Why else would she be sitting with us?"

"I have a question," someone put in a few seats down, saving the fourth year from Lyle's intended snarky comeback. Erin Cobbler leaned over her plate to see everyone. "What was that song the hat sang? Is there another dark lord on the rise?"

At this, every first year turned wide, agreeing eyes to Lyle. Lyle said nothing for a moment, just chewed thoughtfully on a roll. "About two years ago," he started at last. "The grounds keeper, Wick, delivered a prophecy. It spoke of a repeat in our history and a new dark lord, and since then, the hat has felt the need to offer us a warning in his annual song." hen they started rustling worridly, he added, "It's really not anything to fuss over. Prophecies are subject to mistranslation all the time, and sometimes they hold no truth at all. Sometimes they're just a warning that something needs to change."

"According to the new publication of _A History of Magic, _there were two prophecies concerning Lord Voldemort, and they both came true," Charlie Cobble pointed out, his eyes as wide as the moon outside.

"But those events happened within the year they were prophesier," Lyle reminded.

"He's got a point," that was the noodle-limbed Jason Kringler.

Lyle thanked him briefly before going on. "Look, wer're not going to tell you what to believe here in Ravenclaw, but I do want you to understand the statistics of it, and they show that only forty five percent of prophecies turn out to be the true."

"And half of those are misread," a fifth-year seated across from Lyle added matter-of-factly.

The knowledge calmed the tension among the first years, and their giddy minds turned back to lighter subjects. By the time dessert was served, they had gotten onto the subject of quidditch.

"Our team's undefeated two years running," Lyle told them proudly. "Hendrix down there's been captain since his fourth year, and he great with strategy and what not."

"It's a real shame he'll be leaving after this year," a sixth-year girl agreed. "They won't be the same team without him."

"Not necessarily," the boy seated beside her put in. "Aquila rivals him when it comes to strategy. I've heard they work on plays together. She'll be just as good a captain as he is.

"Yes, but the question will be if they can find a decent seeker to replace Hendrix. A quidditch team isn't a quidditch team without a decent seeker."

The first years listened to them debate in awe, until the Headmaster stood, and the hall went quiet.

_~The Hat's Warning~_

Conner had planned on stopping to talk to Arabella, but as he came out of the Great hall with the rest of Gryffindor's first years, he knew this would not be the case. He was so full and tired, he thought he may curl up on the cold, stone floor and go to sleep right there.

Not to mention he thought Arabella's prefect sister may blow a gasket if he stopped to chat.

"Follow me first years!" She was calling from the lead of their group, as though they weren't already doing that. She lead them up a grand staircase and through the maze of the castle, taking so many turns and side corridors and shorts cuts that he lost track of where they had been. All the while, she called, "Keep up! Stick together first years!" And other similar phrases.

Then she came to a stop in front of a portrait of a rather large woman, dressed in a puffy pink dress that made her look rather like a pig in Conner's opinion. She stared at them, and in a flat voice, said, "Password?"

"Beazor," Anabelle answered, and the portrait swung open, revealing an opening that lead into a large circular common room lit by a crackling fire, around which large, squishy looking armchairs had been set up. Staircases on either side lead up to their dormitories; girls on the right, boys on the left, according to Anabelle.

Conner made his way up the staircase with the other first year boy; a small, scruffy looking boy called Maxwell, a boy with sandy-colored hair named Nathan, and the boy with the crazy twin sister, Calder. When they reached their dormitory, they found their things already there, against the foot of one of the four-poster beds, with their curtains shut tight.

Conner made his way to his bed immediately, and released Oliver. The kitten nuzzled his hand in thanks, then skipped his way across the bed, and made himself comfortable on the pillow.

"Oh no," Conner chuckled quietly, removing him. "That's mine." Then he crawled into bed, and fell asleep still fully clothed.

That night, the hat's warning replayed in his head, except that this time, it was accompanied by pictures. Snap shots of people he cared about dead, reports of mass murders up and down the countryside, and most disturbing of all, Arabella lying on her back with her eyes wide open and glazed over in death.

He woke the next morning in a cold sweat, with Oliver licking his nose, and staring at him with concerned, lamplike eyes.


End file.
